


The Complete Package

by sherlockian4evr



Series: Risqué [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Dom John Watson, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Sex Toys, Slow Build, Sub Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have been in a relationship for for five months. The sex is wonderful. It has brought them closer together in many ways. Sherlock, however, is left craving something more. Something that he can't deduce if John would be willing to provide.</p><p>How will John respond when Sherlock finds a way to make his desires known?</p><p>Shameless porn. I regret nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Sherlock Thought

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is more contemplative. The build will be slow, but the later chapters will have their reward.

Sherlock contemplated John over prayerful hands. It was a trick that he had learned in the early days, before their intimate relationship had begun. Invariably, John assumed that the detective was in his Mind Palace when he assumed this pose. He would be free to observe his lover for hours uninterrupted.

The sex they had shared the night before had been a slow burn of desire. John had been his usual caring and careful lover. He had used soft lips and firm hands to bring them both to climax. All the while murmuring tender words of love and breathing sighs of praise. John was ever gentle, the considerate lover.

That was the problem.

Sherlock wanted more. He wanted the safety of confinement. The sweet release of intermingled pain and pleasure. He wanted John to own him. Sherlock had wanted to be owned as long as he could remember. Even before the first stirrings of sexual desires in his teens, there had been hints.

As a child, Sherlock had enjoyed placing a large heavy quilt on the floor. He would roll himself up tightly in its confines and peace would settle over his racing mind.

As he grew older, he often imagined himself as the dashing hero in his own daydreams. Inevitably, he would be captured by the _bad guys_ and be bound and left for hours. Sherlock would lay, unmoving, to add to the intensity of his imaginings.

As he came into his sexuality, other clues had come to light.

Sherlock had been performing an experiment involving the open flame of a candle. As was his occasional habit, even then, he wore only a sheet. It had fallen down to his waist. When the accident occurred and the hot wax of the candle poured down on him, his cock had gorged itself in blood. Intrigued, Sherlock abandoned his previous experiment for favor of a new. He dripped the candle wax over his chest, his nipples, down to his groin, all the while playing and teasing his cock with his other hand. It was the most intense orgasm of his young life.

He was, of course, no fool. He had thoroughly researched all aspects of sex at his brother's urging. Mycroft, after all, had been the one to explain about the so-called _birds and bees_. It was a quite clinical discussion. Bare facts were given, pointers to further resources provided.

Finally, the pieces fell together. Sherlock was _sub_. A sub with no outlet. There was no one that a teenage Sherlock could trust with this so he locked the information away in his Mind Palace and continued on with life.

In uni, Sherlock had dared to experiment. It didn't go well. Uncharacteristically, he had failed to do his research. His partner was inept and hadn't stopped when Sherlock wanted to call things off. Again, Sherlock locked his desires away. In addition, he began building the fiction that he was asexual. He would rather forgo torid affairs of flesh and avoid unfulfilling sexual encounters.

Then John Watson had entered his life in the roll of flatmate and comrad in arms. What a shock that had been. Instead of being put off by Sherlock's undeniably odd personality, the man had actually accepted it. He would raise his eyebrows in confusion, pinch the bridge of his nose, even clench his fists in anger at Sherlock's worst behaviors, but he had stayed. John had actually called him his friend.

Then, seven months ago, their dynamic had started changing. John no longer corrected people's assumptions that they were a couple. He had even stopped protesting that he was _not gay_. Sherlock had assumed that John had simply adopted Sherlock's own attitude of not caring what anyone thought. People were idiots.

Then had come the kiss. It had happened with no warning. They had been standing just inside the landing of 221B when John had leaned into Sherlock's tall form and pressed his lips to to Sherlock's. The detective had frozen momentarily, then all of the want, need, and longing for the other man won out and he reciprocated. They had never looked back.

Now, however, Sherlock's deepest desires had been reawakened. For the first time in years, he was allowing himself to endulge in his darkest fantasies. He knew, finally, he had found the one person in all the world that he could trust with his body and mind. But would John want that responsibility? Would the idea hold any appeal for him or would he turn away in disgust?

Sherlock didn't fear that John would leave him. Their relationship had too firm a foundation for that. If Sherlock revealed his desires and John didn't find it arousing, then they would be awkward around each other for a few days. Sex would be excruciatingly embarrassing a couple of times. Then all would go back as it had been. But _what if_? Then Sherlock could have everything he had ever wanted.

So why was he holding back?


	2. What John Saw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sherlock speculated on revealing his desires to John, the other man hadn't been taken in by his mock prayer pose. John was starting to be annoyed by the scrutiny but didn't want to give away that he knew Sherlock's trick. Finally he breaks and demands to know what the great detective is pondering.
> 
> Will Sherlock divulge his secret or hide it away?

John's skin was starting to itch. He was reading his paper, doing his best to ignore Sherlock's continued staring. The man thought he had him fooled, folding his hands in that mock prayer position and pretending to be wandering his Mind Palace. John knew better. The git.

Sherlock had been brooding over something for days. Whatever it was definitely involved John. It was obvious from the amount if time that the other man had spent in his observation of John. If he could just get the man to talk.

Without looking up, John asked, "Something on your mind?"

Sherlock didn't answer for a moment, feigning an emergace from his Mind Palace. "Did you say something John?"

John rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I said, something on your mind?"

"There is always _something_ on my mind. Do be more specific." His tone was ascerbic.

**He's hiding something.**

"Don't be a greater berk than you already are. What are you thinking?"

Sherlock wasn't forthcoming. John could have dropped the subject but, sod it all, he was getting tired of being stared at most hours of the day. Christ, Sherlock probably kept it up when he was asleep. John wasn't letting this go.

A touch of Captain Watson crept into his voice and bearing. "Sherlock," he warned, "I've had enough of whatever _this_ is." He gestured between them. "You're driving me crazy with whatever is percolating in that mind of yours. Out with it."

Sherlock sat up straighter in his chair, his form going ridgid. John was surprised by the reaction. The detective's face had lost its assured demeanor and now held a more speculative look. What _was_ the man thinking?

"John, I... Its not something I can explain." He sounded, not shy, diffident perhaps? "I think It might be better if I just show you."

It was becoming clear to John. Sherlock must have bungled an experiment on a large scale. He was worried that John would be upset. The doctor could already feel the anger rising. " Right, then. Show me what you've done."

Sherlock gave him a perplexed look, then rose from his chair and headed to their now-common bedroom.

**Maybe I'm wrong.**

John started to follow Sherlock, but the other man waved him to stay where he was. John shrugged and went back to his paper.

In their room, Sherlock pulled a box from the cupboard. It contained the detritus of past cases. He should be able to find something suitable for the tableau he was planning. Yes, these two items would do nicely. Next he sorted through his many scarves, and found one that was soft, and not too bulky.

Sherlock carefully stripped, folding his clothes and placing them on the dresser. He got out the lube and placed it on the nightstand. Next he flipped on the lamp in the far corner of the room and turned off the overhead light. He was really going to do this. One last thing, he placed a key in the top drawer of the bedside table.

Kneeling by their bed, he tied the scarf around his eyes then snapped the handcuffs onto his wrists in front of himself. He was already aroused by the anticipation. **Please let this be alright. More than alright.** Sherlock calmed his breathing then called, "John, I'm ready to show you. Come here." He added, "Please?"

Sherlock rarely said please. Therefore it was with some trepidation that John rose from his chair and made his way to their bedroom. The sight that met his eyes stunned him for a moment. Sherlock was kneeling, his hands cuffed before him and blindfolded. Laying on the floor before him was a riding crop. It was oddly _beautiful_.

John stepped into the room and knelt in front of Sherlock. He cupped the detective's face in his left hand and simply gazed on the detective's lithe body. After a moment, he gently removed the scarf from Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock let out a little moan of disappointment.

"Its okay, Sherlock. I'm not saying no, but we need to talk first." He kept his voice gentle but firm.

Sherlock nodded reluctantly.

Stroking Sherlock's arms, John asked, "Where is the key?"

He was met with another little whimper, then, "Table drawer."

John retrieved the key and freed Sherlock's hands. He pulled the other man to himself in a rough embrace. Taking Sherlock's hands, he lifted him to his feet and guided him to sit on the bed. John sat with him, placing a hand on the detective's knee.

Sherlock was frustrated. Even in thus, John was being gentle. "Please, John. I need this"

John interrupted. "That's the problem, Sherlock. I don't know what _this_ is."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. All timidity was gone. "Really, John. I would have thought that the riding crop was exceedingly clear."

John shook his head in protest. "Its not that simple Sherlock. These things are complicated. Kinks come in a wide variety of flavors and combinations. I'm not about to jump into this and try to guess what it is you really want."

Sherlock's reply was a simple " Oh." Followed shortly by a reluctant admission, "I hadn't thought."

John smiled gently. "I didn't think you had. So, some of the common kinks that tend to go together?" He was thinking out loud. "You're obviously into bondage, some sensory deprivation, and pain. Do you know your limits on those?"

Sherlock shook his head. "My one experiment in the area failed miserably. I never tried it again. I never trusted anyone enough again until you."

John had to swallow. That Sherlock would trust him with this and no one else melted his heart. "Right. We can explore those boundaries together. How about humiliation?"

Sherlock grimmiced. "Not my thing."

"Okay, taking orders?"

"Definitely."

John smirked. Ordering Sherlock around and being obeyed was definitely a turn on for the doctor. "How about biological functions?"

"Ugh." Sherlock reconsidered. "Ammend that. Ejaculate play is amenable."

A small laugh escaped John at that. "There are some more unusual kinks such as breathplay and bloodplay. But I have to tell you those make me uncomfortable."

"No bloodplay. But if... If we could find a method of breathplay that you are comfortable with, then yes."

John considered that. "I just don't know Sherlock. Let's table that for discussion another day. Anything else you can think of?"

Sherlock considered. "Its not a kink of mine, but I would be willing to wear women's liengere if you so desired."

Now John laughed out loud. "That won't be neessary. I already like the way you dress, or don't dress." John considered, "I understand that a safeword is needed to prevent any misunderstandings. Why don't you pick one?"

Sherlock swallowed. This was going to happen. "Bluebell."

John smiled. "Bluebell. Got it." He retrieved the cufs and scarf from the floor. "Are you sure about this?"

Sherlock's voice was rough with need. "Yes. Definitely." He dipped his head and peered at John through his lashes."But John, please. Don't be gentle. I want to be broken. I want to be yours."

Captain Watson took over. "Sherlock. Stop talking."


	3. First Time Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's turned on but a bit cautious. The control that Sherlock is giving over to him is heady.
> 
> Our detective has wanted this for so long, anything his doctor takes or gives sends him spiraling.

John's deft surgeon's hands swiftly retied Sherlock's scarf in place around the detective's eyes. That alone was enough to cause Sherlock's breath to quicken in anticipation.

"Lie back for me Sherlock." He pressed his left hand roughly into the detective's pale chest. Sherlock fell back onto the mattress abruptly. John, still fully clothed, swung his leg over Sherlock's hips to straddle him. He leaned down and licked a long stripe along the younger man's torso, from his navel to his adam's apple. The detective trembled beneath him.

Sherlock started to lift his arms, but John pinned them by the detective's sides with his hands. "No, Sherlock. Don't move. You're going to stay still for me." Sherlock moaned.

John contemplated his next move. He would use the handcuffs, provided Sherlock proved that he could stay still for John. The doctor in him was concerned that they would be to damaging to Sherlock's skin. He would have to negotiate that while maintaining the illusion of control. 

"You like the handcuffs, Sherlock? You want them?" John dipped his head again and pulled the other man's right nipple into his mouth. He savaged it with his tounge, teasing it, biting roughly, pulling back with the raised nub grasped between his teeth. Sherlock's body arched beneath him as he groaned in pleasure. "If you want them, you have to show me that you can stay still for me."

Sherlock's baritone responded, low and husky. "Please."

John was still attacking Sherlock's nipple, driving its sensitivity from pleasure to near pain. "Please what?"

Sherlock was already panting. "Please. The handcuffs. I need them." He was starting to squirm beneath John, his arms twitching at his sides. "I can't... I can't stay..." Sherlock forced himself to stillness with a whimper.

"Good boy," John soothed. "Scoot up on the bed properly. I'll help. Matching deed to word, John maneuvered his lover to the middle of the bed. "Arms over your head, grasp the headboard." When Sherlock was in position, John snapped the cuffs in place, catching them through a break in the headboard. He stopped to admire his work. "Amazing," he breathed.

"If you pull on those, I'll take them away. Do you understand? I expect an answer."

The moment the cuffs had closed on his wrists, something had shifted within Sherlock. His every sense was afire and his mind had gone offline. His current state of existence was diametrically opposed to that of his everyday life. He was reduced to sensation and response, though the responses came slowly from his sluggish mind.

 **John expects a response.** "Yes, John."

Sherlock's voice sounded lost and distant. John wasn't convinced that the man knew what he had agreed to. "What did I just tell you Sherlock?"

Even through the scarf, John could see Sherlock's confusion. **Fuck.** The man was already so taken apart just from this. John would have to go easy this first time no matter what Sherlock thought he wanted.

"I said that if you pull on the handcuffs I'll take them away." John's voice was stern. "Repeat that back to me."

"If I pull on the cuffs, you'll take them away." Sherlock whimpered. "Please. No. I need..."

John stopped Sherlock's pleading with a rough kiss. He forced his tounge into the detective's mouth and pressed deeply as far back as he could. He didn't wait for Sherlock to respond, he bit Sherlock's lower lip and pulled back, streatching that pink lip between his teeth. He savored Sherlock's whimpers.

A primal urge rose from the pit of John's groin. "I want to mark you. Can I mark you Sherlock?"

Dazedly, Sherlock replied, "Yes, John."

With an unexpected heat, John attacked the pale flesh around Sherlock's neck and collarbone. John bit and sucked his way around the detective's tender pale flesh, working methodically. He formed a chain of bites and bruises that would be very visible for days to come. "Everyone will know you are mine now. You won't be able to hide this."

The entire time Sherlock had let out little gasps and moans of intermingled pleasure and pain. His erection had grown harder with each patch of flesh marked.

Sherlock's breathing had grown even more rapid now. He started shifting his hips in search of friction.

"None of that, now." John lifted himself off of Sherlock and flipped the detective over onto his stomach and slid him up in the bed. He checked Sherlock's wrists, there was no undue pressure. Sherlock has crossed his arms at the elbows. "Very good, beautiful. Stay just like this."

John ran his hand down Sherlock's spine, digging his nails in halfway down. When he reached the crest of his gorgeous arse, he flattened his hand and caressed each cheek lovingly. There would be no riding crop today. He hadn't had a chance to practice with it and he was fairly certain that a proper riding crop needed to be chosen that had been designed with human flesh in mind. However, there were other options.

Abruptly, John smacked Sherlock's right arse cheek just where it connected to his leg. The detective jumped and let out a small cry. "Okay, love?"

"Yes, John."

"I want to give you nine more. Can you take that?"

"Yes, John."

"Do you want to count?"

"Please, no, John."

"That's okay, love. You don't have to count. Get ready." John waited several seconds, drawing out the tension then gave two random strikes in rapid succession. The next seven blows were struck at random intervals. Sometimes striking untouched flesh, sometimes lingering over already pinkened skin.

Sherlock was loosing control. His hips were bucking with each blow. He was pleading, "Please. Please, John. I need. God. John. Please. I can't." Behind the scarf tears were falling. He was getting close.

John soothed Sherlock's burning arse by rubbing his hands over the stinging pink flesh. "Hush. Hush. I've got you. It's okay. Calm down for me. Breath. Relax."

Sherlock slowly stilled.

After a few moments, John flipped Sherlock once again so that he was lying on his back. The doctor teased his right hand down Sherlock's chest, skirting around his engorged cock, and down to fondle his bollocks. John worked the other man's balls roughly in his hand before taking Sherlock's cock in his left hand. The detective was so worked up by this point that only a few quick strokes were required to bring him to orgasm. Thick white ropes if semen shot forth and covered John's hand and the detective's stomach in sticky warmth. John left the detective to shudder quietly in the afterglow.

John's own cock was throbbing in his jeans. He opened his fly and released it from its confines. In record time, John completed his own wank, Sherlock's name falling from his lips as he came.

John wanted nothing more than to collapse on the bed where he was but he had already left Sherlock for far too long. Retrieving the key, he unlocked the cuffs from the detective's yielding wrists and removed the scarf from his eyes.

Sherlock still appeared dazed. "You okay," John asked.

A low purr rumbled from Sherlock's throat. "Eminently." He moved and wrapped himself around John, letting out a great sigh. "Thank you."

John smiled.


	4. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their success, Sherlock and John decide that they need to go shopping for supplies. John gets embarrassed. Sherlock is shameless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be a break with a brief bit if humor. It is setting things up for later.

Sherlock was pulling John by the hand. It was just like a toddler dragging its mother into a candy store. This was decidedly _not_ a candy store. No. This was a high end sex shop.

The moment they stepped through the door, John's face colored a deep crimson. He kept his eyes focused on the floor, refusing to look around.

Sherlock huffed. "Really, John. Your embarrassment is unreasonable. Anyone frequenting this establishment has their own particular kinks. The employees likely do as well. Nothing that we will be expressing interest in will come as a shock to anyone present."

"Right." John forced his eyes upward. They went wide.

"Besides, John, you do see the irony in your embarrassment considering your dominant role in our sexual escapade of yesterday?" Sherlock was smirking.

"Fuck you Sherlock."

"Yes, please."

John groaned and shook his head. Obviously Sherlock's submissive streak would not be rearing its head beyond the bedroom. John amended that. Beyond their play space. The man was still a git

A small blonde woman made her way toward them with a broad smile. "Good afternoon. Can I help you find anything today?"

John wanted to sink through the floor.

Sherlock gave the a woman a grin normally reserved for cases ranked nine or ten. "Yeess. My partner and I are in need of supplies for use in BDSM scenes. Primarily involving sensory play, impact play, and bondage. We are, naturally, open to considering other forms of sexual play."

Although the woman was quite accustomed to requests of every kind, Sherlock's rapid-fire listing caught her off guard. Her mouth fell open. "R r right then. Let's start over here," she directed.

This was it. John was absolutely going to _die_ on the spot.

The shelving the woman led them to was covered in an abundance of items. John's eyes lit on one that he recognized. It was basically an outdated piece of medical equipment. He picked it up, his embarrassment momentarily forgotten. "This looks interesting."

Sherlock read the label, "Wattenberg Pinwheel. It looks boring John."

John grinned. "Looks can be deceiving Sherlock. We're getting it."

Sherlock scrunched up his face but made no further objections. "The variety of nipple clamps is greater than I had anticipated." He inspected each closely, finally handing two sets to John. "What do you think?"

John looked around, but no one was watching them. He examined them closely. Immediately, he dismissed the alligator style as too rough. The clover style was intriguing. They were attached by a chain with a loop in the center for attaching weights. He glanced up at the shelf, there was a set of varying weights designed for use with the clamps. "Definitely these." John indicated the clover clamps. "The weight set too."

Sherlock took their items and walked them to the checkout. The young woman looked up. "Will this be it then?"

Sherlock gave her a deprecating look. "Of course not. I anticipate a large purchase. It would be inconvenient to carry all of the items while we continue to shop."

When he returned to John's side, John gripped him by the arm. "Would you not do that. The walking off thing. I'm embarrassed enough as it is without standing here by myself."

Sherlock merely grinned then, taking John's hand, he tugged him along to another area of shelving. This one was covered with assorted butt plugs, dildos, and anal vibrators. "Oh, its Christmas, John."

John groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was more inappropriate than hearing that exclamation over serial murders.

He forced himself to scan the wide variety of offerings. It was amazing really. Everything seemed to come in shades from clear to purple to flesh to black. The sizes varied from tiny tadger to enormous prick. The largest made his eyes water at the thought.

Sherlock seemed to be drawn to items in blue. TARDIS blue. John giggled at the thought. Sherlock wouldn't get it.

"John, would you like to use these on me?" He was holding up a box of graduated butt plugs.

John pictured Sherlock with one of the plugs up his lovely arse and blurted out "Yes. Definitely."

Sherlock grinned. "The benefit of the graduated set is that you could open me over an extended period of time while attending to other interests. Then, at the appropriate moment, I would be ready for usage."

John swallowed. If they had been anywhere else he would have attacked the other man's marked neck instantly. He was semi-hard as it was.

John's eye fell on an item of interest. An anal vibrator. It caught his eye because it advertised multiple settings and a remote. Interesting. He picked it up and handed it to Sherlock who grinned.

This time, Sherlock drug John to the checkout to deposit their finds. When Sherlock asked where to find the cock cages, John actually hid his face in his hands. Sherlock smirked.

They approached the indicated shelving and John let out a gasp. The variety was amazing. There were ringed cages, sheathed cages, leather, steel, silicone. Sherlock gravitated toward a wicked looking steel ringed contraption. It had small spiked protrusions inside each ring as well as a D-ring at the tip for convenient attachments.

John spoke up, "I wouldn't let you wear that for long. Too much risk of tissue damage. Maybe for short treats, hmm? Pick another one to use more regularly, okay Sherlock?"

The detective selected another cock cage with similar design but without the protrusions. While he was making this selection, an ass lock caught his eye. He had to have that too.

Other things made it into their pile for purchase: a spider gag, spreader bar, leather crop, sicone paddle, beaded metal flogger, leather collar, leather cuffs, and rope.

John frowned, all embarassment forgotten. "Christ, this will cost a fortune."

"We're not done yet. There is one more item..." Sherlock looked at John speculatively. "I don't know if you would approve."

John laughed. "After all of this, you're worried about something now?"

Sherlock looked genuinely concerned. "I've read about this. Its called a sleep sack. The individual in question in fully restrained in the sack with no way out."

John gave Sherlock a long hard look. "There would have to be some serious conditions. Never on a case. You would be too vulnerable. Never when I couldn't stay awake. And it would have to be made of something that I could cut through in an emergency. Agreed?"

For the first time, Sherlock looked embarrassed. "Agreed."

The blond woman helped them select a suitable sleep sack and even suggested safety scissors. They took her suggestions.

Their purchases made, the Boys of Baker Street returned home with their prizes.


	5. New Sensations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John puts some of their new toys to use.

Sherlock was thrumming with energy. He deduced people they passed, turning with a flair to watch them from behind. Sherlock commented on the occasional graffiti, on anything that caught his eye.

It was endearing, John thought. They were on their way home from the sex shop and Sherlock was wound up just like he had solved a serial murder. John just hoped he could live up to the other man's expectations.

When they reached 221B and climbed the seventeen steps to their flat, Sherlock closed and locked the door behind them. Immediately a change settled over him. John found it fascinating.

Sherlock's agitation transformed into an almost erie calm. He leaned back against the door to the flat unmoving, pupils blown wide in his silver-blue eyes.

"Sherlock, come here." John gestured to where he was standing by the sofa. When Sherlock had complied, John took the packages he held and removed the other man's scarf and coat, laying them across the sofa. "I want you to kneel here while I get some things ready."

Sherlock folded gracefully to his knees. John couldn't resist, he reached out and, grasping Sherlock by his dark curls, tipped his head back and pressed a rough kiss to his lips. The detective moaned against him. John tipped Sherlock's head back down. "Stay like this for me."

John picked up their packages and went to their bedroom. He laid everything out on the bed. It was a vast array of items. He would have to see a few items to use. The rest would have to wait for another time.

John selected the Wattenberg Pinwheel, the spider gag, the smaller of the butt plugs, and, of course, the riding crop. The collar would be absolutely necessary as would the cuffs.

John though a moment then formed anchors with the rope at each corner if the bed. He placed the emergency scissors next to the lube that had been left on the bedside table the day before. John hummed to himself. He fetched two glasses of water, then put the other toys away. He surveyed the room and was satisfied with his preparations.

John returned to where Sherlock was kneeling. He placed his hand on the back of Sherlock's pale neck. John pushed the man forward. "It's time to come to the bedroom, Sherlock. I want you to walk to the bedroom, strip, then lie on the bed, face down." John released the other man's neck.

Sherlock complied with gracefully, though clearly in a daze. John allowed himself to simply follow and watch Sherlock's catlike motions.

When Sherlock was in place, John took up the colar and kneeled next the detective. He snaked the black leather under Sherlock's neck and fastened it at the nape of his neck. He heard Sherlock's breath catch and a small moan pleasure soon followed. "You're beautiful like this. The black leather against your pale skin. Its breathtaking." John caressed Sherlock's neck around the collar. Sherlock stretched his neck, preening under the compliment.

John grasped Sherlock's left hand and fastened a cuff around his wrist. He attached it to the anchor he had prepared by the D-ring. He made quick work of Sherlock's other arm and legs. Soon Sherlock was spread eagled on his stomach. John watched as Sherlock tested his bonds. The play of muscle beneath the pale flesh was arousing. "Beautiful. Fight for me, Sherlock." The detective redoubled his efforts, to no avail. John felt his erection growing in his jeans.

He needed to be more comfortable so John stripped. "You can stop now. I want you to stay still for me." John had been anticipating this every since he first saw the Wattenberg Wheel. He picked it up and smiled to himself. John started at the base of Sherlock's spine and, pressing down firmly, rolled the wheel upward to the nape of Sherlock's neck. The reaction was dramatic. The detective spasmed and let out a shocked gasp.

"Fuck. John. That..."

Sherlock broke off as John ran the wheel along the back of his left leg. Sherlock jerked as the wheel rolled over the tender flesh behind his knee. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'

John slapped his arse. "That's enough talking. Enough moving too. If you can't behave, I'll have to punish you later." His tone might have been harsh, but Sherlock's reactions had gone straight to John's cock. It was aching with need. He leaned back and willed it to calm down a bit.

John contemplated Sherlock's pale body, his gaze falling at last on his shapely arse. Oh. He had wanted to plug that luscious arse before he got started. John had let himself get distracted. He would remedy that now.

John retrieved the lube and the lovely TARDIS blue but plug. He flipped the cap on the lube and poured it over Sherlock's hole. The other man squirmed as the cold lube slithered down his crack. John smiled and pressed his index finger against Sherlock's hole. Slowly, John began circling his hole until his finger was pulled in. He thrust his finger in more deeply the pulled it out, repeating the motions and setting up a rhythm.

Sherlock fought to stay still and silent. He couldn't help the small moans and gasps that ecsaped his lips. Nor could he still the trembling in his limbs. It was all the more delicious to John.

John added another finger to Sherlock's hole and continued his ministrations. In. Out. Twist. He added a third finger. Now he brushed lightly over Sherlock's prostate. The younger man's hips jerked. John brushed his prostate again. Again, Sherlock's hips jerked. "Enough of that, Sherlock." John withdrew his fingers. He applied more lube to the butt plug and pressed to to Sherlock's hole. The detective groaned. John slowly pressed and rocked the butt plug until it settled into place. John patted it, jarring it where it sat. Sherlock shifted beneath his hand.

John return to the Wattenberg Wheel. Without giving Sherlock time to anticipate his next move, John ran the wheel over the other man's legs, arms, back, buttocks. He got the best reactions when he attacked Sherlock's inner thighs. Each stroke of the wheel caused Sherlock to writhe and jerk. To moan and curse. John didn't correct him. He simply enjoyed the sight of the detective coming undone from something so simple. John imagined how Sherlock's movements made his hole clench over the butt plug. John's cock jumped and a drop glistened at the tip.

John wanted to work on Sherlock's front. He untied Sherlock's restraints and ordered him to turn over. Sherlock complied, his gaze cloudy but resting on John. **We should have gotten a blindfold.** John added it to a mental list of items to purchase later. He quickly restrained Sherlock once again then retrieved the scarf they had used the day before. He deftly used it to blindfold Sherlock then started tormenting him with the wheel again.

This angle offered interesting targets for attack. John ran the wheel once up the length of Sherlock's cock. It jumped under the contact.

"God! Fuck! Please John." Sherlock's head was tossing and his cheeks were flushed.

John grinned. He ran the wheel over Sherlock's left nipple. Sherlock lifted his chest into the sensation  
John repeated the attack from a different angle. Sherlock's back was arched painfully, seeking out the sensation. His breathing was coming hard and rapidly. "Fucking gorgeous."

John moved to the other nipple. He worked at it with the wheel until Sherlock shifted his torso to seek the sensations. Both nipples were hard and red from the repeated abuse of the wheel. Sherlock's cock was as hard as John's own, leaking precome at the tip. It was time.

John released Sherlock's restraints. "Kneel up for me." Sherlock complied. He was facing the foot of the bed. The ends of his scarf dangling against his chest. "Turn around." Sherlock shifted until he was facing the headboard. "Very good Sherlock. Now lean forward and rest on your forearms."

The sight of Sherlock with his arse in the air sent a frisson of desire through John but it would have to wait.

"Sherlock, you moved and spoke even though I told you not to. You know what that means. I expect an answer."

"Yes, John. I need to be punished." Sherlock's voice was shaky.

"That's correct. I'm going to give you ten stripes. I want you to count in your head. You don't have to count out loud. Do you understand?"

"Yes, John." He trusted John. John would take care of him.

John grasped the riding crop and immediately struck a stripe just under Sherlock's arse. He worked quietly and efficiently. Sometimes overlapping the blows. Sometimes striking virgin flesh. Sherlock's arse danced beneath the blows. It was soon over.

Sherlock's scarf was damp with his tears. John hadn't failed to notice. "Are you okay?"

The detective's voice was shaky but he answered, "Yes, John."

"Okay." John kissed each of the welts on Sherlock's arse, caressing the other man's thighs and back as he worked. Eventually, Sherlock stopped shaking and relaxed beneath his ministrations. "Raise up for me."

When Sherlock was resting on his heels, John worked the spider gag in place. "Your mouth is fucking gorgeous stretched open like this." John wiped away Sherlock's tears.

Taking the lube in hand once again, he squeezed out a generous amount. John took Sherlock's cock in hand, then pulled Sherlock's opened mouth down to his own cock. The position had to be awkward for the detective, but what did it matter.

John began stroking Sherlock's cock. He threaded his fingers through Sherlock's hair and guided his motions. John began fucking Sherlock's mouth. That Sherlock couldn't close his mouth made the sensation all the more heady.

John worked them both to completion. Their orgasms coming almost simultaneously. Sherlock swallowed down John's warm ropes of ejaculate, savoring the sensation of John becoming part of him. When John withdrew, Sherlock felt oddly bereft. It didn't last long. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and whispered words of love and reassurance in his ear.

Shortly, John removed all of the paraphernalia and class and them both up. "Drink." John ordered, holding water to his lips. Sherlock drank.

They fell down together on the sheets, limbs intertwined. Soon sleep overtook them.


	6. Bluebell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluebell takes on a life of his own. Mrs. Hudson meets him and thinks he's adorable.
> 
> Very short and cloyingly sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock1110 and shazzykins beta read for this. Thanks so much!

Sherlock picked the thing up gingerly, holding it out from his body with both hands. Clearly, John had lost his mind. Sherlock was holding a large, blue, plush  _bunny_. Sherlock's nose was crinkled, his lips turned down at the corners. Naturally, Mrs. Hudson chose that moment to bring in scones and biscuits for her tenants.

"Oh, Sherlock. Did John get that for you? It's simply  _adorable_." She was gushing. The woman always gushed over her boys when she perceived something she thought of as romantic.

Sherlock pulled a face. "Obviously. Though I thought he had better taste than this."

Mrs. Hudson tutted. "Sherlock, dear. Be nice. Its the thought, you know."

With an acerbic tone, Sherlock replied, "In that case, this counts for little as the thought must have been miniscule."

At this, Mrs. Hudson slapped Sherlock on the arm. She pulled the bunny from Sherlock's arms and hugged it to her chest. "Oh! Look, Sherlock, its tummy lights up when you hug it!"

**Oh.**  Sherlock blushed.  _Bluebell._  He snatched the bunny back and held it possessively.

Mrs. Hudson gave Sherlock an odd look.

"Sorry," Sherlock mumbled. "I seem to be unaccountably attached to the... bunny."

With a smile, Mrs. Hudson patted Sherlock on the arm. "I understand completely dear. I'll just be about my business." With that she returned back downstairs.

Sherlock contemplated what to do with Bluebell. John and Sherlock didn't always act out scenes. Often they engaged in more vanilla sex, enjoying slow and gentle lovemaking. When Sherlock wanted something rougher, he had difficulty asking for it; John knew that. Their first time, Sherlock had shown John what he wanted. Other times, John had been forced to guess. As a consequence, Sherlock had been left wanting. Despite what Sherlock often said, (although he was now sure he didn't really mean) John was above average when it came to intelligence. It was likely that John had purchased Bluebell as a signal that Sherlock could use to indicate his interest in more  _invigorating_ sexual encounters. With that in mind, Sherlock carefully placed Bluebell in John's chair and waited for his return home.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to podfic or translate this or create a drawing based on it, go for it. Just please let me know and link back to my fic.


End file.
